Trust
by Bre Henson
Summary: The once empty ashtray now overflowed... How could Mello have just left like that?
1. Chapter 1

I don't own Death Note, if I did, there would be a manga series coming out all about Matt, Mello, Near, and L

**I don't own Death Note, if I did, there would be a manga series coming out all about Matt, Mello, Near, and L.**

The feeling of sunshine on his face woke Matt up.

He stretched out his arms with a yawn. When the yawn faded it was replaced by a smile.

He sat up, "Morning Mello," he muttered.

There was no answer.

He looked to his right; Mello's bed was mad, and there was no sign of the blonde anywhere.

"He must've went downstairs for breakfast already." Matt thought.

He glanced at the clock; it was 9:30.

"No, Mello's never up this early on Saturday," he realized. "Maybe he fell asleep studying in the library all night, again?" he thought. "Yeah, that must be it."

Matt got out of bed then; he sleepily grabbed some clothes, and headed for the shower.

When he returned to their room, it was still Mello-less.

Matt jerked on his boots; he'd decided to go find Mello.

Matt stepped into the hall, and became smothered by silence.

The house had a subdued air to it. Matt shuddered; the sooner he found Mello the better.  
Mello wouldn't let it stay silent for long. Matt held back another shudder; this place felt as eerily quiet as entering the home of the ReDeads on Ocarina Of Time did.

He peeked into the cafeteria first; it was totally empty. He didn't even see Near in there, eating his usual breakfast of a single banana. The white haired boy usually was here when no one else was.

Next, he searched the library. The only person he found there was the librarian. When he questioned her, all she said was: "No, I'm afraid that I haven't seen Mello since Thursday."

After that, Matt checked the grounds.

When he came inside, he slammed the door in frustration. Sighing angrily, he wiped raindrops off his goggles, and lit up a cigarette.

Roger walked into the room. He was frowning, his forehead creased with worry as he looked at Matt.

Matt figured that Roger was frowning, because he had slammed the door, and plus the old man hated smoking.

"Shoot; that's a double whammy." Matt thought, and then he smirked. "Whammy, Wammy's, haha, I'm a riot today."

"Roger," Matt said, smoke swirling out of his mouth. "Where's Mello?"

Roger shook his head, "Matt; there's something I must tell you…"

Matt was lying on his bed, glaring at the ceiling.

The once empty ashtray on his nightstand was now overflowing.

Matt continued to smoke; reaching with his right hand he slowly pulled off his goggles.

Tears spilled out from under them, and more silently leaked out of his gray eyes.

"Mello…" he whispered.

"L." he said in a choked sob.

He swallowed, trying to erase the lump in his throat.

"Why?!" he shouted. "You're my best friend!" Matt was standing up now, banging his fist against the wall, he yelled, "Why did you leave without telling me? And L…you," he choked. "You weren't supposed to die! You were supposed to catch Kira, not be…"

He felt so confused, and his head hurt from all the crying. Clenching his teeth, Matt realized that he also felt betrayed.

Glaring at Mello's side of the room, he screamed, "I hate you!"

Collapsing on his bed, Matt swore to never trust anyone again.

All that did was get you hurt in the end…

**Now here's a dilemma, do I leave this a one-shot? Or continue it?**


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Back by popular demand

**A/N:** _Back by popular demand! I give you: drum roll Chapter Two! I really, really want to thank you guys for all the reviews! They really made my day; I appreciate them so much! I wish there was some way to thank ya'll! I think that 'Trust' will probably only have three chapters, but I'm not one hundred percent sure; it's all still in the works. Thanks again everyone!_

Matt walked by Roger; the gamer was glaring down at the floor, daring someone to try to talk to him. Roger shook his head; he could hear Matt's I-pod blaring. He tried to remember what new-fangled band the device was playing… My Chemical Romance or something like that…

Roger opened his mouth, and started to say something to the young man, but he decided to sigh instead. It had been seven months since Mello had left the orphanage. Yet, in that small amount of time, Matt had become a cold, uncaring, hard, and untrusting person. He was almost cruel in a way.

Roger shuddered; the air around the young man felt like December, and smelled like a burning cigarette factory. He knew that Matt had been chain smoking through at least two packs of cigarettes a day for some time now, but he just didn't have the heart or enough patience to confront him about it. So, instead of reaching out to help, he just let Matt walk on by.

Matt almost made it to his room without having to speak to anyone, but then Linda cornered him up.

"Matt," she said; her eyes were watery with concern. "You're so depressed lately. I- I think you need help," she whispered. "You don't smile anymore, you don't talk, and I can tell that you've only been eating when Roger makes you. All you ever do now is smoke, escaping life using video games, and curse at people. It's not you, and it's scaring everybody here. I know Mello was your best friend but-"

"Shut up. Mello was like my brother! And what I do is my own business!" Matt shouted. "Good bye, Linda." he said, starting to open the door to his room.

Linda slapped him hard across his face.

"Don't dismiss me like I'm a servant or something! I'm trying to be your friend…" she said. "And I'm worried about you.

"I don't need friends, all they do is betray you." Matt answered, and with that he walked into his room; slamming the door in Linda's face.

That was when she realized that in seven months, Matt had gone from friendly, and optimistic, to just plain ugly on the inside.

Matt grabbed a pack of cigarettes, and his D.S; stretching out on his stomach, he lay on his bed, and lit up a cig. After taking a drag, he started to play a game.

"Stupid Linda," he muttered. "What was she thinking? There's nothing wrong with me. Friends!" he scowled in disgust. "I'm just fine by myself!"


	3. Chapter 3

Matt looked around the dim, gloomy, junked up hell that was his apartment

Matt looked around the dim, gloomy, junked up hell that was his apartment.

The ashtray on the table was over-flowing so much that the table was the ashtray.

But Matt didn't care; he lit up his fourth cigarette in the past hour.

Matt had turned 19 just eight days ago; it had been four and a half years now since he'd seen Mello. If anyone besides himself had walked in, and witnessed the condition of the apartment, and then the state of Matt, they would've turned around, and walked out before it infected them.

Matt took a drag off of his cigarette; he looked worn-out, and world-weary.

Underneath his orange-tinted goggles, his eyes were cold, untrusting, and bloodshot from all the sleepless nights of losing himself in electronic fantasies.

His breath, hair, clothes, and the entire apartment, oozed the scent of cigarettes.

The floor was littered with wires; they ran into various gaming systems and computers.

Matt wasn't living he was merely surviving. His life existed only in this prison; he only left the house to pick up cigarettes, and toilet paper. When his body gave him the choice between eating or dying, he used what money L had left him to have something delivered.

Matt grabbed his laptop, and sat it on his knees; tapping the keys to take it out of stand-by mode, he went to his e-mail inbox. There was a letter from Roger.

Amazing. The old man had found him in only three years.

Matt scowled, and opened the letter; he was already guessing what it said.

As soon as the text appeared, he began to read.

"Matt," it read. "Please come back to Wammy's house; I understand that L's death, and Mello's departure took a heavy toll on you, but you need to come back, and let me help you. You're very depressed Matt, and though it may not seem like it, there is hope. Come back Matt, and please don't do anything-" Matt slammed the laptop shut; rage vibrating through his entire body.

Help?! He didn't need anyone's help! As far as he was concerned, Roger and his 'help' could take a train ride to Hades. Help…what an idiot that old man was.

Matt grabbed the bottle of beer he'd been drinking from; genius could get you anything, and hacking skills had gotten him a fake id. Matt smirked; he loved America, almost ever street had a place to buy cigarettes and booze. As lost as he was though, there was one line that he refused to cross. Drugs. Matt was sick, but the thought of doing drugs made him feel even sicker.

"_Mello…"_ Roger's stupid letter had reawakened the pain.

"_What would he think if he saw me now?" _Matt thought. _"If he could see-" _he smirked, but it fell off his face in an instant. "I hate you, Mello." He said in a hard, choked voice. "And I hope I never see you again."

Scowling, Matt put out his cigarette, and finished his drink. Throwing his laptop onto the coffee table, he got up, and stumbled off to his dark room. He collapsed on the bed; it was time to sleep.

Mello walked through the dark streets, pain shooting through his body.

He had to find Matt. He only hoped that his friend hadn't become his enemy.

A/N: I'm going to take a vote: Do you want the story to end here? Or do you want me to continue on? You decide.

_Thanks for being so patient ya'll! I've been swamped with schoolwork._

_Happy October 1__st__, lol! -Bre_


End file.
